Troublesome events
by BlackBlackBlue
Summary: Started off as an experiment, but is now an on-going case. My first story, with mentions of violence but nothing too dramatic. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story, so if you're bothering to read this, please go gentle on me. Mainly drabbles and if I'm honest is more of an experiment than a story.**

**Enjoy!**

Most people didn't know that DI Lestrade hated crime scenes. He didn't hate them with a passion, but standing outside one still bought irritation rising up his throat. It wasn't just the fact that crime scenes where generally awful, disgusting places but the bother that surrounded them always bought migraine filled days with them.

Sherlock was never any help, but Lestrade couldn't expect any less from the maddening detective. It was all very well solving crimes in the blink of an eye, but there was no need to upset half of the police force as he did so.

"Sir, we don't need him, he's making a mess of the scene!" Donovan complained sourly, stalking over in her pointed heels "I don't see why we always have to call him to help sir, I bet he caused it in the first place!-"

"All right all right Donovan, just stay out of his way!" Lestrade answered warily, hurrying away from her before she threw another pointless, catty fit. Complaints about Sherlock pissed him off more than anything; how would he stop him being so arrogant?! After all, Lestrade was no John Watson.

Too soon another complaint was made, and surprise, surprise, it was made by Anderson. He looked plain ridiculous, stamping about in his protective clothing and scowling at Sherlock. Sherlock was oblivious to the glares, seeming to dance around the bodies in excitement whereas his companion watched Anderson steadily, a crease between his eyebrows.

"No, no, no I shall not take any more of this!" Anderson hissed in a loud whisper, a pathetic attempt at being discreet. "How do you expect me to do my job sir, with that _**freak**_contaminating the scene and ruining the evidence!? I shan't stand for it, I won't!"

Lestrade opened his mouth to explain for the umpteenth time why they needed his help, but Sherlock beat him to it.

"You need me because frankly Anderson, you're a waste of time, money and space," Sherlock interrupted coolly, stepping away from the bodies with a flourish. "I think we're done here Lestrade,"

"You know what happened?" Lestrade asked curiously, ignoring Anderson's furious face, "Well, enlighten us then,"

Anderson face darkened even more as he realised even his boss didn't care about him anymore. It really was too much, too much to hope he would just forget and get along with Sherlock after he undermined him so. But only the unusually quiet blogger seemed to notice his frustration, and came over to stand beside him.

"Calm down there Anderson," John whispered lowly, so that only the forensic man could here "We don't need a scene here"

Anderson whirled around to start yelling at him, but something about the Doctor's face made him stop, despite his short stature. He decided to evil-eye him instead, but John didn't seem to mind.

"I'm not a child" He muttered pettishly, but John wasn't even facing him anymore, instead frowning westwards away from the cordoned police zone.

A gradually getting-louder noise seemed to be coming from that direction, and in a split second John knew what was about to happen. He glanced up wide-eyed at Sherlock who looked back at him every bit as confused as he was. In fact, everyone swivelled their eyes towards the run-down brick wall just metres away from the scene.

And then all hell broke loose.

**What did you think then? I'm really excited about this story experiment and I would love it if you could give me a review, whoever you are! Review and I promise I won't forget it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you, you wonderful people who reviewed! I'll try and make this chapter longer although I'm so lazy it probably won't be by a lot.**

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The impact of brick against metal made a horrible screeching noise, a noise that re-awoke John's memories of blackboards and chalk. Something seemed to have been deliberately smashed through the wall, sending crumbling bricks flying like deadly projectiles.

Anderson swore his voice high with panic as he fell onto John, arms scrambling as he fought to get out of the way. Dust from the wall momentarily obscured John's sight and he struggled to comprehend what on earth happened. A dark shape whizzed about in the red dust, a shape which looked suspiciously like a miniature tank, or some type of SUV.

"Get off me Anderson, we're in the way!" John shouted, as the hulking shape whizzed towards them, "Get down idiot; we're going to get run over!"

Anderson cursed again, almost trampling over John as he struggled to get out of the path of the rampaging vehicle. Poor John was left to roll away last second, dust up his nose and the revving noise of the engine echoing in his ears.

The dust began to settle and as John hurriedly pushed himself off the dust-laden floor, he saw a scene of chaos. The vehicle turned out to be not an average car, but an armour plated thing you would expect to find in Afghanistan or Iraq. The windows were tinted, hiding the drivers face from view as he drove manically over the crime scene, seeming to even drive over the body itself. Police men ran around in alarm, yelling their hearts out at driver as he destroyed the evidence. A brave (but stupid) office got too close to the vehicle and he clipped her around the leg as he reversed.

He must have decided his job was over because he revved his engines once more and drove furiously to the brick wall he had just made an opening in. John scampered out of the way, and just in time as the hulk of metal whizzed past.

Anderson was not so lucky.

He swore explosively as he saw the danger hurtling towards him instead of trying to protect himself, and the idiot was thrown over the roof of the machine. He landed with a bodily thump on the ground, sending up a cloud of dust as the SUV raced away.

_Stupid fool! _ John thought angrily, hurrying to the fallen man's side. "Anderson, can you hear me?!"

No response, the forensics worker was knocked straight out. A nasty gash ran down the side of his left temple bleeding profusely onto the dusty ground. John ran a gentle hand down his neck, but no vertebrae stuck out, and the neck was not stuck out at an unnatural angle. Not broken then and neither were any of his limbs. As John measured his pulse he was satisfied would he make a full recovery but from a height like that, concussion was inevitable.

"John!" A voice shouted and a shocked looking Lestrade came into view, "John where- oh bloody hell, what happened to Anderson?!"

John looked him over but the DI looked unharmed, just shell-shocked.

"It's fine Lestrade, he'll make a full recovery," John explained, adjusting Anderson's body into a more comfortable position. "He wouldn't get out of the way as that madman came towards us, he'll probably have concussion and a sore head, but he'll be fine."

Lestrade let out an exhale of breath, looking over the disaster scene with troubled eyes.

"Any idea on whom on earth that was?" John asked, looking up at him, "Why would someone want to destroy a crime scene like that, after everyone knew a crime had taken place?"

"I don't know John, I don't know" Lestrade answered, wiping dust from his eyes, "It's only a Monday, it's far too early to deal with something like this! I hate crime scenes!"

The walkie-talkie clipped to Lestrade's jacket suddenly crackled to life, and the voice of Sherlock came through.

"Lestrade, where are you?" He asked, sounding just as he always did, "Are you hurt? And where's John?"

"No, no I'm fine and John too, but Anderson's managed to get himself thrown over the vehicle" Lestrade answered, frowning as he searched for Sherlock amongst the kerfuffle "I'm with him and John right now by the wall that got smashed apart. Where are you anyway? I can't see you!"

"That's because I'm on the vehicle with this lunatic" Sherlock answered, and for the first time Lestrade noticed the engine noises in the background "Do try and keep it down Lestrade, he might just hear your voice."

Lestrade drew in a sharp breath, but before he could say anything the walkie-talkie was yanked out of his hands by a livid John.

"He's what?!" John shouted, enraged by his recklessness, "Gimme that Lestrade...Sherlock Holmes what on earth do you think you're doing?!"

"Quietly John, I don't want to be found out right now!" Sherlock hissed back "I'm on the back of his vehicle as I specifically said, in the flat part just behind the driver's cabin. You didn't really expect me to let him get away did you?"

"You're going to get yourself killed!" John argued hotly back, "What if he's driving to some sort of base, then what're you going to do when he finds you at the back of his car?!"

"We need to find out why he wanted to destroy the crime scene, don't you see!" Sherlock explained impatiently, "If we just let him get away, we might never find him again!"

John took a deep breath through his nose, still annoyed despite Sherlock's logic. He hated it when he decided to go running off without a moment's notice.

"Where are you driving past?" He asked, calm and collected once more, "You can give us details of the streets, and Lestrade can tail you. You might even find out if the man's working alone or for somebody else-"

"Yes, well you better hurry up and tail me soon, "Sherlock interrupted, cutting him off, "It looks like we're heading straight out of London."

Lestrade cursed as he overheard Sherlock's words and he began to run towards his plain police car, John right behind.

"Sally, get down here and get somebody to look after Anderson!" He yelled at the sergeant, who gaped gormlessly as he ran straight past her, "MOVE IT DONOVAN!"

"Yes sir, "She replied, alarmed at his briskness. She began to run towards the brick wall, struggling on the uneven ground with her heels.

"Sherlock, where are you driving past?" John asked urgently, barely in the car before the inspector moved out and began to race down the main street. "Quick, we might lose the trail!"

"Right past the primary school, join the dual carriageway; turn out by the park, then..."

John struggled to keep up with Sherlock's babble of instruction while Lestrade drove erratically, sirens on and all. The atmosphere was tense with nervousness and adrenaline was fizzing as they zoomed down roads, rapidly approaching the suburbs. Airplanes from Heathrow grew louder and flew lower as they headed out of the city.

"We're slowing down" Sherlock suddenly pointed out, his voice stiff with barely concealed excitement, "Hurry up Lestrade, I think we're here."

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**So my experiment turned out to become like this. I've got a rough plan in my head and I'll definitely be throwing Moriarty in somewhere.**

**Please review and tell me what you thought.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bless your heart Lucy1234 and anyone else who reviewed or read this story.**

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The area the vehicle had stopped in seemed to be an abandoned industrial estate, at the point of closure. Four warehouses lay sprawled over an area the size of a small football pitch, a few forklifts and Lorries left milling beside entrances. There was no sign of human activity and as Sherlock glanced towards the nearest Warehouse, he could see it was in a bad state but with a ladder leaning on the outside wall. Closed temporarily perhaps, for a much needed repair.

The vehicle came to a halting stop and Sherlock nimbly jumped down and ran for cover as a man stepped out of the driver's door. He walked down the side of the car, Sherlock analysing him while trying to restrict his movements as much as he could.

He couldn't deduct a lot from the man as he wore simple black clothes, with nothing to distinguish them as unique. He walked with firm steps, average length with a shoe size of about eight or nine. His back was slightly bent and he moved with movements that were unnaturally fast. He constantly looked over his shoulder as if he was expecting trouble or someone to catch sight of him._ Either a trained man or a nervous criminal under a lot of stress _Sherlock mused, watching as he walked briskly to the warehouse.

It was risky tailing the man in such an open environment but luckily he didn't look back once, concentrating on whatever task he had before him. There were no objects to duck behind if he chose to look back, and Sherlock was well aware of the fact as he followed noiselessly over the littered ground.

The man had a hard time opening the warehouse door, while Sherlock crouched patiently behind a fork-lift, wondering what he wanted from the shabby building. The door made an annoying wailing noise as the old hinges moaned in protest. The man ducked inside as soon as he had made a space big enough for himself, Sherlock following soon after.

For some strange reason, the man began to break into a run as soon as he stepped foot into the warehouse, footsteps echoing as he rushed past empty shelves stretching towards the lofty roof. He changed path twice, Sherlock almost losing him as he ducked out of his sight.

"I've done it!" The man suddenly called out, his voice raspy with what Sherlock suspected as alcohol abuse, "I've gone and done it and now you people owe me!"

A safe distance away, Sherlock frowned at his words as it echoed throughout the warehouse. So this man was working for others for money, but why would anyone want to destroy a crime scene that had already been reported?

"Sufficiently destroyed?" A Scottish sounding person asked, his face obscured in shadows "The body too, all of it? We don't want anyone to know it took place after all"

"Now hang on a moment!" The raspy man said, his voice tinged with panic, "So nobody will know it took place?!The place was crawling with policemen; I even flipped one over my roof!"

There was a dangerous silence, and the raspy man whimpered as he realised his colleague was going to be very angry with him. The shadowed man stepped forward and Sherlock finally managed to get a glimpse of his face. He was a red-head, his face unfamiliar with a short cut beard covering most of his features. The most unnerving snarl covered his face and he darted forward, grabbing raspy's arm and throwing him onto the ground.

"How many?!" He yelled, viciously kicking at his side "How many Officers were there, you stupid oaf?! HOW MANY?!"

Raspy muttered something fearfully, visibly shaking as the Scotsman kicked him in the face, breaking his nose. The Scotsman obviously heard what he said, for his face turned an alarming shade of purple.

"YOU IDIOT!" He roared, breaking the fallen man's arm with a furious stamp "DO-YOU-REALISE-WHAT-THE-BOSS-WILL-DO! YOU'VE DOOMED US SPENTON, YOU USELESS RETARD!" He punctuated each word with a blow on the crying man.

Spenton, which must have been what the injured man was called, cried out in pain, dry sobs racking his body as the Scotsman lividly rained blows down on his body. Even though Sherlock had no sympathy for the criminal, he winced as his body was slowly turned into wreckage.

"P...Please!" He gargled, mouth full with his own blood, "Mercy...Mercy s...Sebastian, m...mercy! Please-"

Spenton was cut off as Sebastian smoothly bought out a gun from his belt and shot Spenton dead. He didn't look twice at the newly made corpse, instead rushing out of the warehouse, fists clenched and blood still wet on his knuckles.

Breathing heavily as though he had run a race, Sherlock waited until he heard the screech of the warehouse door before hurrying out of his hiding place towards the corpse. A pool of blood was rapidly spreading but Sherlock felt no disgust and barely saw the body in front of him, his mind overflowing with what he had just seen.

'_So the body wasn't meant to be discovered, let alone analysed by me, the World's only consulting detective'_ He thought rapidly, biting his thumbnail in thought_ 'Spenton had died for revealing how much police officers had been on the scene and the Scottish Sebastian mentioned a boss_._ Someone in charge of their little criminal division.'_

Sherlock had no trouble thinking that the boss in question was either Moriarty or someone that worked for him.

He fumbled for his walkie-talkie, eager to share his findings with the others.

"There's been a complication" He said, eyes still fixed on the bloodied Spenton "There's been another murder in a warehouse, and I've just seen the murderer go off after having an interesting talk with the victim"

"W-what?" John replied incredulously, voice muffled behind the shriek of sirens "Another murder? Who was the victim?"

"The driver of the armour plated land rover" Sherlock responded, "Killed by a man called Sebastian who's working for another 'boss'"

"Oh for God's sake!" Lestrade moaned, controlling the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel, "This is getting out of hand Sherlock._**Two**_ cases! And now you're telling me the murderer got killed off by another murderer! "

"That's precisely what I'm telling you" Sherlock said smoothly, walking towards the exit "Get to the abandoned Industrial estate on the right of the motorway, I have a lot to tell you..."

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Three hours later, and both crime scenes where still in a state of utter chaos. After being informed of all that had taken place, Lestrade was beginning to wish he could just go home and forget the whole damned business. Sherlock and John had left ages ago, after the detective declared he had no need for Spenton's body and couldn't deduct any information from the mangled first corpse.

221B was a mess as Sherlock plastered evidence all over the walls and paced to and fro, muttering annoyedly with himself. John watched him wearily, personally not liking the dark blanket which seemed to hang over the case. Adding Moriarty into it just made everything a lot worse.

"If they never wanted the crime scene to be discovered in the first place" John pondered out loud, running a tired hand through his hair "Then why did they put it in such an obvious place? I mean..there are many ways to get rid of a body, and they chose to dump it there. It doesn't make any sense!"

Sherlock tugged at his hair and span a full circle in a bizarre show of frustration.

"Spenton seems to be a stupid man" He began to explain, staring at the evidence board "Let's say that it was his idea to dump the body where we found it, because he's an idiot. Then he must have realised someone could find it, but his superior, the Sebastian bloke, simply told him to destroy the evidence. Maybe...maybe he thought it wasn't too late. Do you follow me so far?"

John nodded slowly, watching Sherlock's finger trace photographs and pieces of scrawled writing on the board.

"So Spenton goes to destroy the evidence" Sherlock lectured, pointing at a picture of the first crime-scene, "He finds it littered with policemen but still does not consider it of particular importance. When Sebastian finds out that the crime is anything but a secret, he becomes furious and kills Spenton. He talked about some higher power 'doing' something to them, revenge or something of that sort. He leaves the Warehouse, and I have no idea what he has planned.

"When he discovers the murder of Spenton is being investigated, he will realise he's being tailed, and we might even have a third murder on our hands" Sherlock finished, staring at the gory picture of Spenton's body. "It's a never ending circle, of superior murdering superior which might even end up with-"

"Moriarty" John interrupted a crease in his brow as he realised how volatile the situation was, "But the murder of the first man; if they wanted to hide him so much, then he must have done something important. You looked over the corpse so what makes him so special?"

Sherlock smiled humourlessly, throwing himself onto an old armchair. It was the first time he had sat down all day.

"Well that's when it gets very confusing" He murmured, the picture of Spenton still embedded in his mind's eye although he was no longer looking at it.

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**AN: So it seems that this story is heading off into a completely different direction now. An actual case!**

**Please tell me what you thought.**


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